A Time To Forgive
by Kaelir of Lorien
Summary: Non slash. QuiGon's emotional turmoil after the betrayal of his apprentice, Xanatos, threatens to overwhelm him. Years later, he has a chance to rectify his mistake and regain what he lost. The only question is, can he forgive himself enough to accept?
1. Remember

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its names, title, etc. I am respectfully borrowing them.

I have read only bits and snippets of Jedi Apprentice, so I might be a little off on things. I would say this is slightly AU, perhaps...

Oh, and a little note at the bottom might explain why some of you have seen this before.

Also, if you like this story, I would encourage you to take a peek at one of my more long-term ones, Lost Jedi. It focuses more on the Anakin/Obi-Wan team and I'd like to know what people think. I warn you, though, not to be frightened away by the strange beginning - it's a dream, so bear with me if it seems confusing. I promise that it gets much easier to read after. Thanks and happy reading!

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The Jedi Temple, many agreed, was legend in the making. Even as far as the Outer Rim, one might chance across and old storyteller describing a long-past journey to Coruscant for an audience of wide-eyed young ones, dwelling on the majestic pinnacles, the strong, firm construction, the unparalleled sense of awe inspired. It was a sacred place, a sanctuary where few walked unchanged, if they entered at all. 

Those who lived there, however, maintained slightly different views of the Temple. It was more than a haven from the galaxy outside — it was home, where thousands of beings were bound together as one family in the will of the Force. Most, it was true, did not reside in the Temple. They were scattered near and far across the known galaxy, possessing a duty to maintain balance and order. But nearly all of them returned to Coruscant once in a while to take a respite in the peaceful, meditative atmosphere and to reconnect with the Force.

Qui-Gon Jinn could not find peace there.

It was home, yet he was unable to feel its solitude.

Everything was dark; not the warm, velvety comfort of a star-strewn night, but an icy, piercing unknown filling his consciousness. He could feel it taking hold of him, drawing him, and he made no effort to escape, wishing only to sink into its depths to numb the pain. He was restless, too; everywhere he went he could feel eyes watching him, and if he happened to glance up, they quickly looked away, as though afraid to meet his gaze.

It was not a question of why. He knew why.

Memories resided in every room and corridor, haunting him. The boy sparring with a fellow apprentice in one of the training areas, his lightsaber swirling elegantly through the air around that of his opponent. The boy eagerly trying to locate his home planet in the starmap room after one of their missions. The dark-haired young man who had passed the trials of Knighthood with flying colors, making Qui-Gon prouder than he had ever been…

Qui-Gon knew it was his own fault. It was he who had brought Xanatos to the Temple, taking him from a barely-willing father on Telos. He who had trained him, spent more time with him than anyone else.

And yet he had been blind to what should have been apparent, perhaps unwilling to admit that the talented young Jedi could have dire faults. He had firmly ignored Xanatos' growing hunger for power and unnecessary aggressiveness during practice. Had he hoped the boy would grow out of it as he became older? It seemed a pitifully inadequate excuse now. For he had been wrong, fatally wrong.

How in the galaxy could he not have seen it? No matter that the Council (except, perhaps for, Yoda) had been caught unawares as well; he, as Xanatos' master, should have at least realized that something was out of place. But no, Qui-Gon had turned a blind eye to any signs there might have been, convinced that his apprentice would become an outstanding Jedi Knight. The burden of responsibility was placed on him and him alone.

Three days had gone by since the betrayal on Telos, but Qui-Gon had barely noticed their passing. He isolated himself from the rest of the Temple, keeping distance between himself and other Jedi. If he had to talk, he spoke with only the briefest of words, then lapsed into silence again. Most gave up after one or two attempts at drawing him into conversation, and far from being upset about this, Qui-Gon encouraged the silence. Words of comfort and sympathy had no meaning for him anymore. He did not want their pity.

Only two Jedi would he consent to speak more than a few words to — Yoda, because he knew the little master would not accept otherwise, and Tahl. With the latter, she refrained from mentioning the source of his troubles, and for this Qui-Gon was grateful. He did not want to talk about it, though he knew that word of what had happened had spread through most of the Temple within hours of his return. Other Jedi were wary of him now, skirting him as though afraid he might vent his feelings on them.

To make matters worse, the Jedi Council was not pleased with him, either. Qui-Gon had refused to give them an official report, and it was only through Tahl's gentle encouragement and Yoda's adamant insistence that he was persuaded to explain what had occurred. He realized, too, that they wanted him to take another apprentice. On this matter, however, he remained unwavering. He would not train another apprentice and risk betrayal again. Not after Xanatos.

Qui-Gon was lost. It was as though his apprentice's betrayal had instigated a sudden pause in the usual goings-on of his life, and until he could overcome his grief and guilt, he could not see what lay ahead.

But why worry about the future? What did it matter anymore — it could not change events of the past. He felt trapped, trying to forget the memories burned into his mind, yet unwilling to look towards what might come later.

A small part of him knew this could not continue. Facing his fears was the only was to resolve the feelings inside of him. But he was not ready not yet. It was much too soon, the anguish and he who had caused it were still too near. One day, perhaps, he would make up for this mistake.

For now, he could only remember.

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Haha, sorry for the confusion for all you people who read "Remember". This is a kind of second-chance revised version because I decided to add more chapters than just the one. I'm sure Qui-Gon will feel better if he gets some reviews! 


	2. A Little Chat With Wisdom

Many years later….

They say that with time, comes healing. That as weeks slowly turn into months, and months into years, pain of a word or event lessens and the victim becomes adapted to it. In a sense, the hurt is numbed until it is no longer noticed. If one is not inclined to dwell in the past, it might even be forgiven. It is said that even the most grievous wrong can be forgiven and forgotten with the passage of time.

Many find solace in what they believe to be the beginning of a better life, a new start after a varyingly hurtful fall. It is with determination that they resolve to let that healing come and to face the years ahead without thinking of the past.

It is said that the possibility of such a cure exists in the hearts and minds of all. One must only allow it to take shape.

Qui-Gon still didn't believe a word of it.

For him, the pain had not diminished. It seemed just as real, just as scarring, as it had that day so many years ago. Every time he even looked at his apartment he was reminded of Xanatos. That, he had concluded, was Yoda's fault, for the master had flatly refused to allow him to move to a smaller, single-Jedi set of rooms. So now he was living in a Master-Padawan apartment that was devoid of a Padawan. Another subtle hint on his master's part indicating that he should take on an apprentice? But Qui-Gon would not. He refused to risk it again. Not a week went by in which he did not berate himself for his folly and wish he could have seen what affection had blinded him to. Why had he refused to see it?

_Because you did not wish to see it_, a small voice said from the back of his mind.

The worst part of it was, it was true. It had been so foolish, so _arrogant_ of him to believe that Xan — no, he would not think about it again. He had already convinced himself of his mistake. Why make it worse? It would not help. It never did.

"And it can't be changed," Qui-Gon murmured quietly to himself, though a regretful sigh escaped his lips. He let his eyes roam the contours of the darkened meditation chamber, the slits of light glowing softly in the spaces between the blinds. It was a warm, calm atmosphere, a place where he could avoid the main activity of the Jedi Temple and reflect.

The soft tap of a stick broke into those reflections. "Master Qui-Gon." It was merely a statement, not a question. Yoda was often like that.

Only a little startled, Qui-Gon pushed away the light flicker of annoyance that had skimmed through his meditations upon perceiving the echo of the other Jedi Master's alternating pattern of shuffling and tapping.

"Master Yoda," he acknowledged in return, uncrossing his long legs and slipping to the edge of the round meditation seat. A rather awkward pause followed, at least on Qui-Gon's part. He had a nasty feeling that Yoda knew what he had been thinking about moments before and he didn't like it very much.

The little Jedi Master, however, had not come to discuss the other's feelings. Squinting his large eyes and folding three-fingered hands on the knobby top end of his stick, Yoda peered up at Qui-Gon in an unnervingly knowing fashion. "Heard, you have, of the competition between the Padawans soon to come?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied shortly. As if he needed another reminder.

Ever since that day, he had become a far more solitary individual than he had ever been in the years before Xanatos. It was with willingness that he agreed to undertake solo missions, more often than not on some far-flung Mid or Outer Rim world overrun with complications. It helped him to keep his mind from dwelling on what had transpired. And at least, if he were alone, he would not be in danger of losing someone else during the course of an assignment. He had also avoided contact with the Padawans as much as was politely possible. They reminded him too much of what he had lost through his own ignorance.

Silent for a moment, as though listening to Qui-Gon's thought process, Yoda gazed solemnly at the tall Jedi. Then his normally unreadable countenance softened into one of resigned pity.

"Exciting, most would find it," Yoda pointed out gently. "Interested, they would be."

"And I do not find it so."

Yoda nodded understandingly, which somehow annoyed Qui-Gon even further. "Know this already, I do. Yet still present, I wish you to be, during this tournament."

Highly suspicious now, the other Jedi turned very slowly to look at him, grey-blue eyes narrowed and flashing irritation. So Yoda was playing this game again. "Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said as respectfully as he could manage, "I believe we have been through this before. I told you then, and I am reminding you now: I will not take another Padawan as my apprentice. You think placing me in a position where I will have to watch their skills will alter my decision?"

"Hmm," said Yoda. "Hard, you are, Qui-Gon Jinn. Adamant, you believe your choice to be?" He held up his hand before the other could answer. "Vow such solitude, other Jedi have. But of it, no good has come. Isolate yourself, you do, Master Jinn. Your own choice, it is, but not as one of a Jedi."

"My decision, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon replied evenly, "is exactly that." Did Yoda always have to rebuke him for choosing not to take another apprentice? He, of all the Jedi, should have understood why Qui-Gon had taken that path.

Then his mask of civility shattered. "What do you want me to do?" Qui-Gon demanded angrily, determinedly not looking at the wisdom in his master's eyes. "You saw what happened the last time I trained a Padawan learner."

"Entirely your fault, it was not." Unshaken, Yoda glanced up at him from where he had hopped onto a meditation seat opposite the other. He placed the tips of his fingers together and waited serenely for the response.

Qui-Gon shook his head, still looking away. "But it _was_ my fault, Master. You know that. I became too close to him; my affection for him blinded me to his mistakes. It could have been prevented had I not been so… attached."

"Change it, you believe you could have?" Yoda questioned, a hint of an admonishment in his tone. "Coming, it was, Qui-Gon, though its meaning we at first did not realize. Already proud, the boy was, and longing for the glory of leadership. Only by leaving him on Telos, I believe, could you have altered events significantly enough. But too late, it had become, for such a course."

"I should have left him there," Qui-Gon murmured bitterly. "I knew he was too old, I should have listened to the Council's misgivings."

Sighing heavily, he looked down and was surprised to find that his hands were clenched tightly around the soft rim of his seat. As though it gave him something else to think about, he slowly and gently relaxed each muscle in his fingers and watched with interest as his hands gradually loosened from the cushioned edge. Then he looked up at Yoda.

"I will not risk that betrayal happening again. I will not take another apprentice."

Yoda sighed, but he seemed to have been expecting a final statement along those lines. "Combat your right to this, I do not."

There followed another pause, then the diminutive Master looked up and spoke again.

"Only your motive."

* * *

As he walked away from that meeting, Qui-Gon finally realized what aggravated him most about Master Yoda. True, he was the quintessence of a Jedi — modest, strong, nearly unparalleled in combat, wise in the ways of the Order and the galaxy, and putting the good of others always before himself. Only a corrupt senator hoping to gain a few votes in some petition or another would try to say otherwise. 

The problem was, Yoda was always _right_.

He never said so, of course. In keeping with his modest nature, he would on no account look you in the face, smirk a little, and say, "Tell you, I did." He had much more subtle means of ensuring you knew he was right and you were wrong.

_Including making you feel guilty_, Qui-Gon thought rather resentfully as he strode down the gleaming white hall. But (which most probably had been the objective) he recognized, as he had for many years now, that Yoda was correct. There was only the tiny snag of him, Qui-Gon, being too proud and stubborn to admit it.

And Yoda questioned his _motive_? His motive should have been only too obvious from the start — he did not want to have to face a betrayal like that again, especially not one brought on by his own error in judgment. But Yoda knew that, and yet still debated why Qui-Gon was choosing this. Did he possibly see something that Qui-Gon did not… or could not?

Perhaps the other master was right. He was doing this, not just because of the reason given to Yoda, but because he was afraid. Afraid of what might happen if he lost control again; afraid of becoming too close to a Padawan he might not be able to train suitably. Very few people realized how close he had come to crossing the dangerous threshold between the Light and Dark when he had witnessed Xanatos' betrayal. It was not an experience he cared to duplicate.

In short, he was afraid of becoming like Xanatos.

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Sorry for the confusion about this story. It was meant to be a single chapter, but then I had the idea of continuing it later on, so I reposted it. Still the same story, though, and I'd love reviews! (Hint hint: Reviews!)

Next chapter: Obi-Wan makes an appearance!


	3. Hot and Cold

Qui-Gon had a lot to think about over the following few days, especially once the tournament of Padawans had concluded. Perhaps Yoda had been right, though Qui-Gon never would have admitted it to the Grand Master. The testing of skills had created a different impression this time, no longer a monotone of lightsaber combat between younglings desperate to prove their worth. In fact, there was a moment when he had almost felt himself caught up in watching one of the duels, subconsciously willing the two opponents to move this way, strike from that angle, duck over there…

He was annoyed at himself for allowing those emotions to control him. He had worked so hard for so many years making sure he never felt the compulsion to train another apprentice, yet now, deep inside, he sensed long-dormant longing awakening within him. There were brief times when he wished he were instructing a Padawan learner again.

And then there was that one youngling, the rather short one with gingery hair who had fought near the end of the competition. Qui-Gon had caught the Padawan staring at him during the beginning of the match and again after his duel had been won. Something had seemed different about him. There had been a fierce determination about the way he moved, the manner with which he twirled and slashed his blue lightsaber. But Qui-Gon had also seen what the other masters had no doubt noticed — the aggression, the unnecessary force used during the final moments of the match that may have won him victory, but had lost him approval. Anger had to be checked, balanced, but this Padawan had unleashed it in a furious onslaught of strokes and Force-power quite out of control.

Yet still he could not get the image of the boy out of his mind. The way that youngling had looked up at him, you would have thought he was begging to be accepted as a Padawan learner. And there was absolutely no chance of that. None at all.

After all, he only went to these things in a rather transparent effort to humor Yoda. They both knew he wasn't serious about it.

It came as quite a start, therefore, when Qui-Gon inadvertently walked in on what was evidently an escalating fight between two hot-headed, glaring boys in the middle of an otherwise deserted training room. They were standing several yards apart, each with one fist clenched at his side and the other maintaining a vice-like grip on his lightsaber.

Both younglings, about twelve years of age, were recognizable to the startled Jedi Master watching them. One was the Padawan Qui-Gon had noticed earlier and who he had deemed much too belligerent during the tournament. The evidence in front of his eyes now only heightened that view, for the boy was looking positively murderous. The other, with strange white hair tied back in a longer ponytail than normal, had been the opponent during the duel, and though less aggressive then, Qui-Gon found himself liking this one with even further reduction.

The white-haired youngling's stare had slipped into a casual, taunting smirk. Instead of tensed, his lean body was relaxed and sure. With a provoking air, he unhooked the lightsaber from his belt and twirled it absently in one hand, looking for all the galaxy as though the other boy were not worth his trouble.

"Failed again, haven't you, Obi-Wan?" he remarked in a deliberately infuriating tone as the lightsaber hilt spun around in his hand. He stopped it with expert ease and sniggered. "Just not good enough for the Masters…tch…."

The other gritted his teeth in frustration. "I beat you, Bruck! You know it!"

Qui-Gon, who had been on the verge of entering the room, suddenly thought better of it and retreated back to the shadows of the entryway. He had a sudden curiosity to witness how this dispute would play out.

"Oh, I'll admit you managed to catch me a little off guard. But I don't mind, really. You see, even though you beat me, you didn't get what you wanted, did you?" The lightsaber flew higher in the air, accompanying Bruck's malicious words as it spun a few rotations before landing again in the Padawan's outstretched hand.

"What are you talking about?" Obi-Wan demanded angrily, but Qui-Gon sensed a small hesitancy in the way he said it. He knew what the other meant but was obviously unwilling to admit anything.

Bruck laughed softly. "Don't be so modest. I realized from the start that all you wanted was Master Jinn's approval. You were hoping that if you proved yourself during the tournament he might take you as his apprentice."

"And how do you know he won't?"

"Didn't you see his face? Stone cold, as usual. I don't think he was very impressed with your performance. Maybe you _tried_ too hard, if you know what I mean."

Standing silently in the shadows, Qui-Gon frowned as he looked on. He wasn't sure if it was a relief or a mild shock to discover that he had not misinterpreted young Obi-Wan's intentions during the competition when the youngling had glanced up at him. The last thing he needed was a small something trailing him.

An eerie, mocking smile was playing across Bruck's face, the lightsaber still spinning in his hand as he waited for Obi-Wan's reply. Then he abruptly stopped the weapon's progress and, almost in the same sharp movement, ignited it, causing a scarlet blade of searing energy to spring forth from one end of the cylinder. The air around it thrummed loudly as the lightsaber was spun backwards, then forwards, in tight, controlled circles.

"So, _Oafy-Wan_," Bruck invited in a low hiss of a whisper, a spiteful gleam darting across the ice-blue eyes fixed on his fellow initiate. "Perhaps you'd like to try again. See if you can't control that nasty temper of yours? Or maybe," he continued, a flash of red briefly illuminating the contours of his young face, "you're just too clumsy to begin with…."

"I am _not_!" Obi-Wan shouted furiously. His voice sounded as though it were on the verge of breaking at any moment. With an angry jerk of his hand, he pulled his own saber from the left side of his belt, positioning the flickering azure blade in front of him.

Now, Qui-Gon realized, this had gone too far. When a simple disagreement suddenly elevated into what was shortly to be a pitched lightsaber duel. Not only that, but the Jedi Master quickly became aware that both weapons had been set to full power in the heat of their resentment. One strike in the right place… and it would become a fatal blow.

It was impossible to tell which of the two younglings actually moved to strike first. Moving with unnatural speed, Qui-Gon was between them before their blades could make contact and, instead, the lightsabers clashed forcefully onto the Master's own weapon that he had activated seconds before. Sparks flew from the dual collision, and then a heavy, awkward silence descended upon the room.

The first sound after that was the metallic clatter of Obi-Wan's saber hilt as it fell to the floor from his nerveless grip. He seemed unable to take his eyes off Qui-Gon, an expression of utter terror flooding across his face, which had initially turned bright red, then faded to a sickly green, and finally blanched to a near white as he became aware of the identity of the Jedi standing between him and his rival. Obi-Wan made a small, indistinct noise in his throat but seemed unable to speak a coherent word. The sight would have been comical had it been present in an alternate situation, but not even Bruck was smiling now.

"What, might I ask," Qui-Gon said in a dangerously calm tone, "is going on here?"

Obi-Wan immediately averted his eyes, unable to bear that cool gaze.

"Well?" The Jedi Master turned his glance to Bruck expectantly.

"It wasn't my fault, Master!" the boy protested innocently. "I was just talking with Obi-Wan — about the contest — and he took out his lightsaber and —"

Qui-Gon eyed him skeptically. "Yes?"

Bruck's bravado was running out fast. "He just attacked me for no reason…" he mumbled, looking down at the floor and shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Lying will not get you anywhere, young Padawan," Qui-Gon replied pointedly. "You think I don't know what was going on?"

"Yes… no, Master…." The mutters trailed off uncertainly.

"And you," Qui-Gon went on, facing the slightly-trembling Obi-Wan. "Do you have anything to say?"

Obi-Wan shook his head numbly. He looked close to tears. "N-no, Master Jinn…."

"Very well. Give me your lightsabers, both of you." Bruck reluctantly handed over his weapon, Obi-Wan retrieving his from where it had fallen to the ground and slowly placing it in the Master's palm. "Now each of you, you are to go to your assigned quarters and stay there until you are told otherwise. Understood?"

They nodded and hastily retreated from the chamber.

As Qui-Gon watched them disappear down the hall, his mind was distracted by a recollection of Bruck's words. _Stone cold, as usual_. He sighed, suddenly feeling rather alone. Was that what all the younglings thought off him? A cold, distant Jedi Master who very rarely, if ever, gave his approval? It was a sobering thought to ponder that perhaps he had gained some of his master's less-admirable traits, after all. Dooku had never been the warm, fatherly figure that a mentor should try to be. And it looked like he was turning into something similar.

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Yay, next chapter finally finished! Poor Obi-Wan... I'm giving him a hard time, but it IS rather amusing all the same. Aha, no I did NOT mean to sound like Xanatos. Oops. Please review! 


	4. Request of A Youngling

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I've really appreciated it. And just so everyone knows, I'm not expecting to go through the whole Bandomeer/Xanatos plot played out in _Jedi Apprentice_. This is pretty different, and is most likely going to skip forward to vaious stages in the relationship between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, kind of looking at how thier bond develops. Of course, It would be no fun with Xanatos _completely_ eliminated, so we'll see what happens...

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"You're being too hard. On yourself… and on him."

"Please, Tahl, not you, too. I had more than enough criticism from Yoda on the subject."

"But he's right. You —"

"_Tahl_."

Caught by surprise at his sharp tone, she bit back her response and continued watching him warily. Her green- and gold-striped eyes, however, remained unsympathetic and conveyed her thought that he was being ridiculous about the whole thing.

Qui-Gon sighed, regretting it immediately. "I'm sorry," he murmured in apology. In an almost personified effort to relieve boredom, his fingers began subconsciously tracing the pattern of sunlight falling, pure and golden, on the fabric of the couch next to him. "I don't know what I'm doing. I resolved not to train another apprentice… and yet a small, truthful part of me still wants to take on a Padawan."

"Then why not?" Tahl asked with a small smile. "The past is over, Qui-Gon. Just go and tell Yoda you've changed your mind."

But the other shook his head. "I can't. You know I can't."

"Because of something that happened years ago that wasn't even your fault?" She sounded as if she would have liked to physically slap some sense into him. "Force, Qui-Gon, you need to get over this! Didn't you hear me? It's _over_!"

"I know it is!" Qui-Gon nearly shouted, standing up suddenly and pacing over to the window. "And that, I think, is part of the problem! I can't go back and fix it, remedy those mistakes. Don't you see? How can I remotely trust myself with another apprentice after what I blundered into back there? How do I know I won't cause the same suffering that resulted the last time I tried? _How can I be sure_?"

Softly, his friend replied, "You can't. But you'll never find out if you don't take the chance."

"I think that is a risk I would prefer not to gamble," the Jedi Master muttered bitterly.

"Well, then I can't help you." Tahl shrugged in resignation. "I should probably be going. There are some younglings that are in need of high-standard supervision. And if I don't get there soon, Force knows what I'll find."

With a final, encouraging glance at him, she strode quickly through the doors and into the hall. It was only seconds later, however, when Qui-Gon heard her voice echoing back at him from outside the apartment.

"What?" he called back in confusion. "I can't hear you."

Her voice grew slightly louder as she answered, "I said, there's someone out here who wants to speak with you."

"Who is it?" Qui-Gon inquired, more than a little curious. Was it Yoda again, come to try and convince him for the multi-millionth time that he should look over the younglings?

"He says he'd rather just come in."

Blast it all, it _was_ Yoda.

Qui-Gon sighed agitatedly. "All right, send him in."

But it wasn't Yoda. It wasn't even a Jedi Knight.

It was Obi-Wan.

And before Qui-Gon could protest or say anything at all, the Padawan had crossed the room, never looking up, and sat down opposite the Jedi Master. Almost with amusement, Qui-Gon noted that Obi-Wan had perched himself on the very edge of the chair, reminding him very much of some small animal ready to bolt should its companion suddenly lash out in hostility.

Taken completely by surprise, Qui-Gon could only sit there incredulously as he came to terms with the fact that the one youngling he had been avoiding at all costs had actually taken matters into his own hands and come to _him_. Astonishment, however, was short-lived, for it was speedily replaced with the beginnings of irritability that this boy was so persistent. Qui-Gon was sick and tired of everyone pestering him to change his mind, and as a result, his first words to the expectant Padawan were less than cordial.

"Did you want something, Padawan?"

The boy's head jerked up sharply as he jumped at the sound of the master's voice. "Y-yes, Master Jinn. I-I wanted to ask you something."

"Say it, then," Qui-Gon prompted, feeling faintly annoyed.

Obi-Wan looked down at his boots, one hand fiddling with a cream-colored corner of his tunic. Twice he swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, then lost courage and closed it again. Finally, as though he knew he was wearing Qui-Gon's patience thin as a sheet of paper, he took a slow, deep breath and said firmly, "Master Jinn, I'm sorry that I behaved the way I did the other day. I should have known better than to start an unsupervised duel like that. I let myself become angry when I shouldn't have and allowed Bruck to manipulate me because of it."

The Jedi Master frowned. "You admit, then, to starting the argument?"

Hesitant at first, Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master," he agreed in a small voice. "I-I do."

_Strange_, Qui-Gon mused to himself as he considered the response. _I don't think he actually did start the fight. _Was Obi-Wan so desperate that he would admit to a crime that he had not actually committed? But that was just as bad, if not worse. He was protecting the other youngling, Bruck, which was certainly not the right thing to do, as well as deliberately lying to a Master. Qui-Gon knew the latter was forbidden if a learner lied specifically to his or her own mentor, but this was nearly as bad.

"Was that all you wished to speak with me about?" he asked aloud.

"No, actually." Obi-Wan seemed to be debating how best to word his next sentence. "It's just that, well, I…. This may sound too forward for a Padawan — usually it would be you coming to me — but since you haven't…." His voice trailed off again for a moment.

"_Yes_?"

"I w-was just wondering if maybe… maybe you might consider taking me as… as y-your a-apprentice." Unable to look at Qui-Gon's face as he anxiously put forth his request, the youngling had once again taken up his sport of boot-staring throughout the entire broken sentence. Qui-Gon saw him risk a quick glance up, then drop his eyes when he saw the master staring thoughtfully at him.

Unwillingly, Qui-Gon felt himself melt just a little bit under the imploring appeal. It was so simple, so heartfelt… and yet he was incapable of granting it.

"I'm sorry, young one," he replied gently, and he meant every word of it. "But it can't be that way right now."

Obi-Wan looked up at him, and Qui-Gon saw there were tears in his blue eyes. "But Master…. You're my last chance. I'll be thirteen in less than a month, and then…" He sniffed, trying not to let the master see the tears sliding down his face. "…then it will be too late. I won't get another chance."

Why did everyone have to make this so difficult?

"Obi-Wan, it just isn't possible at the moment."

"Why not?" the Padawan demanded, furiously brushing away the tears. "I don't have a master and you don't have an apprentice! What's wrong? Is it me?"

"Partly," Qui-Gon consented, swiftly seizing his chance to avoid complicated explanations. "Your performance during the competition was admirable, but how you achieved it has less to be commended. Your anger —"

"I already heard about that," Obi-Wan muttered resentfully. "From Bruck."

"He was correct in that respect, you know. You let it control you."

Then, suddenly and without the faintest idea how it had happened, Qui-Gon was facing a tear-streaked, feverishly shouting twelve year-old. "And maybe he was right about everything else, too!" Obi-Wan yelled uncaringly. "Maybe I _am _too clumsy, maybe I'm not good enough! But maybe it's because _you're_ too cold to even notice! You don't care about anything, do you? You don't care if I get sent to the AgriCorps because you refused to give me a chance!" Veritably sobbing, he ran out of the room, but not without a last parting shot that reached Qui-Gon even from halfway down the hall. "You're a bloody _rock!_"

Qui-Gon was left where he had half-risen from the couch, staring unseeingly at the door that had slowly hissed shut without a care in the world.


	5. Locked Inside

I'm actually surprised at how quickly this chapter was finished. I had originally intended this and the next chapter to be one, but this one amazed me at how long it dragged itself out for.

The flashback scene here is one of my own imagining, what I thought might have occurred the last time Qui-Gon saw his apprentice since the story began. I'm not sure if something similar to this was recalled in the_ Jedi Apprentice_ series, but this is my telling of it. Happy reading!

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Strangely, Qui-Gon could always recall later exactly what circumstances and seemingly separate events led him to realize just how desperate the young Obi-Wan Kenobi was to be taken as an apprentice. And analyzing the sequence of proceedings later, he concluded that their coming together had not been a random coincidence. Who was really to be blamed, he could not precisely say; but his primary suspects were Yoda, Tahl, and the Force itself.

"Ah, Master Qui-Gon. A job, I have for you."

A little sigh of irritation slipped out as Qui-Gon slowly turned on the spot where he had stopped in the middle of the hall at hearing Yoda's greeting. Lately, it seemed that he never got a moment's peace, not since the tournament the week before. He knew, though, that unless he calmed himself, Yoda would most certainly sense his aggravation and start badgering him about that, too, so closing his eyes for a moment, the Jedi Master took a moment to let all those feelings of annoyance leave his mind and fly out that nearby window.

The window. With sudden interest, he scanned the Coruscant skyline, watching the headlights of speeders and air taxis flowing in steady streams between tall durasteel buildings. Then his eyes wandered upward, above the constructions, until his gaze was on the sky beyond. What was so unusual about it, so familiar…? It was just like any evening here on the capital — a blazing sun sinking, liquefied, below the horizon and the shades of night gradually replacing the light. It was with a sudden twinge of pain that he remembered…. It looked just as the sky had then, on Telos IV, that evening before everything had gone horribly, inexplicably wrong.

_Crion was dead. That much was obvious, even to Qui-Gon's pained eyes. The man's chest was no longer__ rising and falling with his last efforts to get oxygen to his lungs, and instead he was a limp, pitiful figure sprawled on the floor, one arm outstretched where it had fallen.__ A singed hole on the left side of his shirt was still smoking slightly where Qui-Gon's blade had seared through cloth and flesh, a __quick death blow that Qui-Gon desperately hoped had been too swift to cause much pain. He had been sincerely reluctant to kill Crion outright, but, in the end, the governor had left him little choice._

_Unable to look any longer, the Jedi Master averted his eyes from the pathetic form of his defeated adversary. A long, rather shaky sigh left his lips as he deactivated his lightsaber, the blade rushing back to its containment in the metal hilt, and turned in preparation to leave. A small sound, however, caught his attention, and he looked back over his shoulder._

_Abruptly, his breath caught in his throat. __Unheard by Qui-Gon, __Xanatos__ had stolen silently into the room, only to be met by the sight of Crion lying in front of him. The young man__ was kneeling down next to his dead father__, head __bowed as though weighed down by grief. Light glinted dully off his dark hair, still cut in the manner of a Padawan learner, for he had not yet been proclaimed a Knight.__ Qui-Gon merely stood there, watching, sensing the many conflicting emotions rushing__ through the young Jedi's mind._

_It was a long time before Xanatos spoke, and then it was with a voice so devoid of emotion that Qui-Gon almost did not know it. "You killed him," Xanatos said in a soft, flat tone._

_"I'm sorry. It was… necessary."_

_"Of course."__Almost as though he were content__ to leave it at that, Xanatos fell silent again.__ His fingers moved hesitantly and gently touched the limp hand of his father. When they drew back again, Crion's ring was grasped neatly between thumb and forefinger, the top red-hot from when Qui-Gon lightsaber had sheared off the stone during the fight. Head still lowered, Xanatos slowly and deliberately brought the ring up, a fraction of an inch from __his face, and the next thing Qui-Gon heard was the sound of __smoldering__ flesh as scorching metal burned into__ skin. _

_Xanatos did not even wince as the heat ate away at his cheek, and when he finally lifted the ring away, a scar had been branded onto the left side of his face, a mark bearing the shape of a broken circle._

_"I trusted you," Xanatos uttered, __his tone laden with malice. __There was a glaring hatred that Qui-Gon had never seen before in his __icy blue __eyes. "I trusted you with everything, with my very life. I followed you wherever you went; I thought of you as a second father; I thought you would always _be_ there!"_

_Qui-Gon took a step forward. "Xanatos, this isn't what I wanted to happen. But do you not see what he was doing? People were dying because of your father, thousands —"_

_"More lies!" the younger man snarled, a feral look contorting his face even more than the scar. "My father was right about you, about all the Jedi! They don't care at all! And you" — he added with a sort of angry, twisted sneer__, his tone hushing dramatically__ — "you're __even worse than the rest of them!"_

_With a sudden icy calm, Xanatos rose slowly to his feet. His lightsaber sprang, activated, to his hand in front of him. "You will pay. You will all pay for what you have done…"_

_"Xanatos, no!" Qui-Gon cried out. He couldn't let this happen. "You don't know what you're doing. Why are you turning your back on the Jedi? If you leave now, you can't come back!"__ It was like a worst nightmare transformed into blazing reality by the apprentice standing there in front of him. _

_"I'm not coming back, Qui-Gon."_

_"Xanatos, please —"_

_"Please?" the other repeated __mockingly, his __fingers__ drifting casually __across__ the gleaming hilt of the lightsaber __held in his hand__. "Are you pleading with me? Why, Qui-Gon, whatever happened to your pride?"_

_The Jedi Master's expression was pained. "If that is what it takes," he said quietly._

_"Save your breath. It's too late. You'v__e showed me who you really are." His pale eyes were glittering, whether with anger or tears at Crion's death, Qui-Gon could not tell. The lightsaber was flickering ominously in front of his face, illuminating the new scar, playing light and shadow across the broken circle…._

"Reminiscing, Master Jinn, hmm?"

With an effort, Qui-Gon forced himself back to the present, tearing himself away from the memories that had remained locked inside him all these years. Not even Yoda knew exactly what had happened on Telos IV, how much it had hurt and broken him, more than any lightsaber or any torture ever could have done. Even now, when it injured him to look back, the experience had a way of holding him in, making him relive that anguish over and over again, like a replayed hologram that could not be turned off. He withdrew his eyes from the flaming sunset that had dipped down below the horizon, and then let his gaze drop to the windowsill.

"My apologies, Master," he said almost inaudibly. "What was it you wished me to do?"

"A talk, I wish to have," Yoda began.

_Not another one_, Qui-Gon thought, a flash of anger rising. _Not again_.

"— with young Obi-Wan Kenobi."

A pause. "What?"

"A talk, I wish to have, with young Obi-Wan," the little Master repeated patiently. "Tell him, you will for me, hmm?"

"Master, I —"

"In the west meditation chamber, I will be, when he arrives." Without waiting for a response, Yoda shuffled away down the hall. Qui-Gon watched his receding back with a mixture of indignation and hopelessness. Yoda expected him to carry out the request, of course, by informing Obi-Wan, assuming that Qui-Gon would do so even if he had not agreed. And, as usual, he was right. There was no logical reason or excuse why Qui-Gon should not, and that was what bothered the tall Master most right now.

Resigned to his unpleasant task and inevitably hostile confrontation, Qui-Gon strode off down the hall, in the opposite direction from which Yoda had come and gone. He had not been to the younglings' quarter in years, but then again, why should he have had any need? The last time he had been there… he had been speaking to Xanatos regarding their potential as Master and Padawan. It looked like he was in store for additional painful memories.

However, Qui-Gon had no idea that he would learn more than he had bargained for.

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Oh, the suspense. Sort of. Anyway, hope you liked it. As usual, reviews/comments/questions are always welcome and, indeed, I encourage them! 


	6. Two Views, One Thought

So I don't give too much away beforehand, I will be discreet: The paragraphs regarding Obi-Wan written in italics were done, for the most part, by Setep Ka Tawy, later edited my myself.

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Yoda. Yoda was behind this whole thing, and Qui-Gon was feeling extremely resentful about it. The Grand Master was poking his little green nose where it didn't belong — in Qui-Gon's business — like he had been on and off ever since Xanatos' treachery. If he would just _stop_, perhaps Qui-Gon would be able to get some much-needed peace and quiet. And now, _now_ Yoda was attempting to force this Padawan on him, this youngling that he absolutely did not want and certainly would not accept for training. Did Yoda think that by forcing the two of them to come in contact more often he could _bully_ them into agreeing?

Qui-Gon shook his head, his frown startling a couple of younglings passing him, probably on their way to a basic saber training class. Their eyes grew wide until they seemed too big for their heads, then they quickly darted away down the hall.

As the Jedi Master approached the younglings' quarter of the Temple, he began scanning the name plates next to the doors, looking for the right name. One caught his gaze, and it felt like his heart had done a curious, distressed little backflip inside his chest. It couldn't be. Alarmed, he moved back for a closer look, then breathed a discernable sigh of relief as he recognized his mistake. The plate read _Xansa Ot__al_, not the dreaded name of his old Padawan.

By the time he reached the door marked _Obi-Wan Kenobi_, he was still not ready to face what was coming. He felt so guilty about it, and at the same time, angry at the boy for his determination. Strange, he pondered, how a twelve year-old youngling could induce such hesitancy and reluctance in him.

Steeling himself, Qui-Gon pressed the "doorbell" that would let Obi-Wan know someone was outside. But after more than three minutes, there was still no reply.

Taking the next logical step, he slowly waved the door open and strode inside.

It soon became obvious that the little room was empty, and had been for some time. The blinds were still shut from the previous night and the bed was in the state expected of one belonging to a young boy; it seemed a half-hearted attempt had been made to straighten the sheet and covers, but that the occupant had given it up as a bad job and left it that way. On the opposite side of the room, a few model speeders and starships decorated the otherwise plain dresser, which had one drawer hanging open.

What attracted Qui-Gon's attention the most, however, was the presence of a little navy-colored book lying open on the table next to the sleep couch. Unsure what was causing this sudden curiosity, the Master paced over and gently picked the book up, feeling the thin pages between his fingers. Turning it over, he read the simple title "Journal" on the cover, then opened to the first page. Pre-printed words read "Property of", followed by a line upon which Obi-Wan had penned his own name, "Obi-Wan Kenobi" in a light, rather elegant script Qui-Gon would not have expected from a boy of twelve.

Now, of course, he was aware that reading this would be considered trespassing on Obi-Wan's personal property. He had no right to read the private thoughts of a youngling he had determined to have nothing to do with in the first place. No, he would not do it.

And yet, despite this resolution, Qui-Gon found himself turning forward to the page he had marked with his other hand, the place the journal had been opened to when he had first come in. The top of the page was dated, but there were no other identifying marks, no title or subheading to indicate what the following entry was about. In spite of himself, Qui-Gon smoothed the page and began to read:

_Well, I finally did it. I asked Qui-Gon if he would take me as his apprentice. Things went downhill from the beginning, ending up in a veritable pit of the valley of lost hopes and dreams. That's all I can bring myself to write at the moment; it still give me tears when I think about it._

Unsure what he was feeling, Qui-Gon continued on to the next entry, hoping it might explain more. Unfortunately, this one was even worse.

_Why doesn't he understand? Why won't he listen? He just shoves me away, and when I try to get back in, it's a locked door without a coding sequence to open it with. Doesn't he realize that this is my last chance, the last hope I have? If he doesn't accept me, my future as a Jedi is gone. He said I'm too unruly, too angry, too full of emotion. But that's why I need him, to teach me how to control myself. I could learn a lot from him, especially on that subject. Force knows he's _too_ controlled. But now, whenever I pass him in the hallway, I can feel myself shaking, my face burning, my tears welling. It's gotten to the point where I actively avoid him. He doesn't realize what he's done to me — crushed, smashed, scattered my hopes that were barely holding on before anyway. Or maybe he does realize, and just doesn't care. I don't understand what makes him so cold and distant… It's almost like he's afraid to get too close, afraid to be my master. But what does he possibly have to be afraid of?_

_I know this is chaotic, but I need to get my thoughts out somewhere, and my thoughts are just spilling out right now._

Oh, Force, what was he thinking, reading this? If this was what Obi-Wan thought of him in the solitude of his own thoughts…

_I'm beginning to think that both Qui-Gon and Bruck were right; maybe I don't belong here at the Temple at all. Nothing works out for me here, except for the friends that I've made. Maybe I do belong in the AgriCorps, tending plants. I've had plenty of practice in the Room of A Thousand Fountains. I just wish I could have made a life as a Jedi… but that hope is gone now. I'm almost starting to feel like it never existed._

Finally, by this entry at the end of the opposite page, Qui-Gon decided he just could not stand to read any more. If he had felt guilty before, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling now. Was this honestly what Obi-Wan thought of whenever he came into sight? Was this how Obi-Wan viewed him, as a cold, distant figure intent only on crushing hopes and dreams and not caring what the end result was?

Feeling rather shocked, Qui-Gon deposited the journal where it had lain before, then quickly exited the room, closing the door behind him. A sense of numbness was spreading rapidly throughout his entire being as a result of those entries; it was one thing to have heard those words from an angry Obi-Wan during the heat of tearful disappointment at first, but to see those same words penned privately in the boy's personal journal was something he had been utterly unprepared for.

Then he remembered… it was so similar… where _had_ he put the thing?

With a sudden determination in his stride, he hurried back to his own apartment, opening the door with an absent wave of his hand. After a moment of hard thought, he recalled where the object of his search most likely resided and pulled out a somewhat large box from the back of the closet in his room.

A flood of memories greeted him as he stared at the contents; so many little trinkets, so many tokens of missions, small gifts, random collections of unusual articles collected over the years. A bunch of silvery-blue feathers bound together with gold thread, assured to bring long life by the native tribe who had presented it to him during a mission with Dooku; two models of Republic cruisers he had probably constructed as a youngling; several packets of seeds he had not yet managed to plant somewhere; a small, smooth stone from his homeworld that he gently slipped inside his robe… and, at the very bottom of the box, a thin volume, bound in emerald cloth and looking quite careworn.

As though it were instinctive, Qui-Gon flipped unhesitatingly to a page near the beginning of the book. A date had been penned in the top right-hand corner, a line skipped, and then an entry written in his own hand:

_Three months. That's how long it's been, how long I've been Master Dooku's Padawan. One might think that things would change over that long a period, at least slightly. But they haven't. He's a good Master, in an academic sort of way… he knows how to teach and I do learn from him… but that's all. No warmth, no affection of any kind. I don't expect __all that much — even a smile would be nice — but he doesn't even give me that. And there is a hardness about him, a coldness, that seems to be preventing me form any attempts to fix things. Every once in a while I look at him and I think, this is exactly the kind of man who would agree with the saying "The ends justify the means." As long as something gets done, it doesn't matter what was involved or who was hurt in the process.__ Right now, I think the latter is me._

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Sort of a cliffhanger? Not really? I dunno. But I would still appreciate reviews, especially from the people who have been adding the story to their alert lists! 


	7. Bonded As One

Sorry about the lack of recent updates with this story. My creativity juices ran a bit low for a while, but they've been soaring in the past week, so we're back in business. This could be considered the end of the story... or the end of Part I. In your reviews (if you have any) I'd like to know whether you would like me to continue and add a Part II that includes one of my favorite villains of all time, Xanatos. So on that note, please review!

Note: The "traditional greeting" presented below is used in the Jedi Knighting ceremony, but I like the sound of it in this chapter as well, so I used it accordingly (accepting that it might be used incorrectly).

And if you like my writing, I encourage you to take a peek at my other stories. Happy reading!

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It was nearly done. There had been many stumbling blocks, many unseen twists and turns that threatened to halt progress completely, detours that seemed never to end… yet somehow, they had some through. More specifically, there had been one moment when all might have collapsed and dissolved with no hope of repair, and it was there when Qui-Gon had feared most that it would fail.

That one moment had been the morning after Qui-Gon's finding and subsequent reading of Obi-Wan's journal. Realizing over the course of the night that he had to put his stubbornness behind him for once, he had resolved to make amends immediately the next morning. Of course, it was not easy. Upon seeing who wished to speak with him, Obi-Wan had seemed on the verge of closing the door in Qui-Gon's face. It had taken no small amount of persuasion to convince the youngling that letting the master in would prove beneficial for both of them.

Having encouraged Obi-Wan to at least consent to listen, Qui-Gon had then proceeded to explain — everything, which proved more difficult than he had anticipated. Well, almost everything. He was not yet ready to confide in the initiate all that had happened years ago between him and Xanatos. Most likely, Obi-Wan was not ready to accept it, either. So, carefully avoiding that delicate subject, the Jedi Master told him what had been going on in the days, almost weeks, during which both of them had been put through severe trials. How he had not felt ready to take on an apprentice; how he had, quite honestly, not fully considered Obi-Wan's desperate position; how Obi-Wan's questionable performance at the tournament had cast doubt into his mind.

Then, as he suspected it would, things went rapidly downhill when he admitted reading those few journal entries. First, Obi-Wan looked shocked, as though he couldn't believe it. Then surprise swiftly turned to pure fury. Qui-Gon endured several minutes of yells, tears, and accusations, but rather than try to quiet the boy, he merely sat down in serene silence and waited for the storm to blow over.

Which, eventually, it did. Having quite exhausted himself, Obi-Wan dropped, still a bit tearfully, onto the couch beside Qui-Gon. With an occasional wipe of his eyes, he confessed that despite Qui-Gon's duplicity, he would be honored to be taken as the apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn, and went even further by saying that he would try his utmost to be the model student and prove that he could do what was required of him.

Considering all that they had gone through to get to this point, Qui-Gon thought that was rather nice.

Consequently, they were now in a small chamber, kneeling side by side on the floor with the members of the Jedi High Council gathered in a circle around them. This was with the exception of Master Yoda, who stood directly before them with his small hands folded on the gnarled top of his stick, for as the Grand Master he was the one who ultimately accepted the decision of a Master taking a Padawan.

Once everyone was assembled, they recited the traditional greeting used in both this and Knighting ceremonies: "We are all Jedi. The Force speaks through us. Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed."

Obi-Wan was making a pretense of looking downward respectfully, but every so often Qui-Gon say his gaze dart sideways to his soon-to-be master. Catching the boy's eye, Qui-Gon shot him a mildly reproving glance, but with a small smile as well to show he was not angry.

"So sure of this change of heart, are you, Master Qui-Gon?" Yoda questioned with a sly little glance at the Jedi in question. "Very sudden, it is, and most unlike your old views."

For once, however, Qui-Gon cared very little about Yoda's so-called "prying". He knew that, this time, he was making the right decision. "I am quite certain," he confirmed with so sign of hesitation. "Hate as I do to admit it…" He gave a wry smile. "You were right, Master."

"As you know, Qui-Gon," Mace Windu added in a precautionary sort of tone, "this choice cannot be reversed. Once you have committed yourself, you are obligated to continue and complete the training of your Padawan. There can be no turning back."

"I am well aware of that," replied Qui-Gon firmly. "I stand by my decision."

He lifted his gaze slightly and glanced around at the Council members within his immediate range of vision, as though daring them to challenge his resolution. None did so.

Yoda straightened up a little. "Very well." He moved so that he was directly in front of Obi-Wan, whose eyes rose upward to meet those of the little Master. "Padawan Kenobi," Yoda intoned formally, "willingly and knowingly, accept Qui-Gon Jinn as your Jedi Master and mentor, do you?"

The boy's whole countenance was resolute. "I do, Master."

"And Master Jinn," continued Yoda, facing Qui-Gon in turn, "willingly and knowingly, choose Obi-Wan Kenobi as your Padawan apprentice and learner, do _you_?"

"I do, Master," was Qui-Gon's determined response.

Yoda stepped back and surveyed the other Jedi gathered around them. "Seats on the Jedi High Council — agree with this bond, do you?"

The answer echoed sonorously around them. "We do, and may the Force make it strong."

"With the power of the Force, may you train your apprentice well, Qui-Gon Jinn." In keeping with the Jedi custom, Yoda bowed to both Jedi, who repeated the gesture. The ceremony was concluded.

As the other Jedi dispersed around them, Qui-Gon placed both hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Well, my young apprentice, we are stuck together now whether we like it or not."

Obi-Wan looked positively thrilled at being addressed by his new rank. "Yes, Master. But I think it will turn out all right."

"I couldn't be in more agreement," Qui-Gon replied, truly smiling for what felt like the first time in days.

Obi-Wan nodded. "We're going to go through a lot together. I can feel it."

And looking down at his new apprentice, seeing the joy on the boy's face, Qui-Gon could feel it, too.

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Don't forget to tell me whether you want this story to continue with Xanatos! I encourage reviews! 


	8. A Stranger and A Ghost

Aaaaaand here it is, Part II, finally up. Hope everyone enjoys it!

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Part II: _Two years later_

The sun was shining down merrily on the inhabitants and city of Ariana, its bright rays warming walkways, glancing off smooth, durasteel-sided buildings, and generally making it a welcoming afternoon for the capital of Garos IV. A warm breeze was wafting through the streets, bringing with it the scent of long grass and windflowers from the fields on the outskirts of the city. The sky overhead had maintained a clear, unmarred azure since dawn and only now was beginning to deepen in hue. It was the kind of day that made one appreciate the gift of life, compelled one to shout with complete ecstasy at being alive on such an afternoon.

Being a Jedi Master, Qui-Gon obviously had some semblance of dignity to maintain, so he did not shout with complete ecstasy. He was, however, not unaffected by the planet's splendor. Stepping with a fluid grace out of the landspeeder where he had been seated moments before, he lifted his head and let the soft breeze caress his face as it drifted over and sent his long, tan hair blowing behind him. That sweet, elusive scent brought back to mind the vague recollections he had of his homeworld, more in the nature of a sense than a picture of memory. He stood there for quite a long moment, reveling in the feeling of peace and the Living Force, but was brought back to reality (or was this reality?) by a soft, accented voice behind him.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Obi-Wan remarked, moving to stand beside his mentor. There was a warm smile on his face, but Qui-Gon was sure he had detected the slightest hint of amusement in the fifteen year-old's tone.

Deciding not to comment on that, Qui-Gon answered lightly, "It's pleasant to be away from the smog and commotion of our dear Republic capital. Coruscant may be suitable for the schemes of politicians and is perhaps a convenient location for the Jedi Temple, but it's not the best place if one is looking for serene beauty."

"My, you _do_ have poetic side, Master." The apprentice's tone was that of mock astonishment. "Who would have guessed — the stern, cold, rock-hard Qui-Gon Jinn is actually a natural poet in disguise?"

Qui-Gon chose to ignore that.

"In any case," continued Obi-Wan in a more serious tone as he changed the subject, "you have no idea how relieved I am to have gotten the diplomatic requirements of this assignment over and done with. It's all well and good when our presence is actually required, but I still can't see why the Council would want us to oversee this whole election. What do they expect to happen? Nothing _did_ happen."

With a smile he did not show on the outside, Qui-Gon noted that though the first two sentences of this little speech had been quite in character for Obi-Wan's Jedi side, the last bit had merely been the complaint of a early teenager who had been directed on a normal, unexciting mission. He allowed himself a small chuckle. Despite the assumptions of the rest of the galaxy, Jedi were not all that different from everyone else.

"It was a precaution, if nothing else," the master explained as the two of them began walking along the street. "There have been rather explosive situations — sometimes literally — during elections in the past."

The Padawan grimaced. "If I didn't know you'd probably hit me for it, I'd say the whole thing was a waste of time."

"But you never know. It could have been the Jedi presence that prevented someone from trying anything to disrupt the proceedings." Qui-Gon's tone was easy, but a hint of rebuke lingered in his words.

"If you say so, Master. I've come to the conclusion that most every aspect of this planet is completely _dripping_ with the serene and mundane."

But though Qui-Gon appeared to be listening, his attention had been diverted by a scene directly opposite them on the other side of the street. A few spectators had gathered in front of what was most likely an apartment building of some sort. In the doorway stood a man, his face ruddy with anger and his hand twisted around the collar of another figure's shirt — a teenage girl. Opening his mouth to an abnormally large proportion, the man gave a shout of, "No! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousan' times: no payin', no stayin'! Out, wretch!" He flung her roughly away from the building, causing her to stagger and nearly fall into the street as he did so. Then he turned malevolently on the crowd. "An' clear out, all o'you!"

"Yet the serenity is always disturbed," Qui-Gon muttered as he watched the scene intently. The spectators had moved along, perhaps wary of getting involved, and the landowner had disappeared back into the apartment. Once the coast was clear, Qui-Gon beckoned to Obi-Wan and crossed the street with his usual long strides.

The girl had taken refuge on a bench not far away, her head bowed and audible sobs reaching the ears of the two Jedi. Keenly aware that she was unlikely to trust strangers, Qui-Gon approached her cautiously. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

She glanced up, starting, and quickly brushed her tears away. "What do you want?" she demanded brusquely.

"I'd like to help you, but it won't do much good if you don't want to accept my help."

"I — I don't need help."

The Jedi Master looked at her, sighed, and continued sympathetically, "Yes, you do. I get the feeling you have nowhere to go after this. Am I correct?"

The girl was attempting to glare angrily at him, but the effect was slightly marred by the tears welling in her eyes again. Then she let out her breath shakily. "Y-yes, you're right. I don't know what I'm going to do now. The landlord took everything I had left to pay for the rent, but even that wasn't enough."

"How old are you?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning.

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen and all on your own here?"

She nodded. "My mom and dad… they were killed in a space accident when I was twelve. I've fended for myself since then."

"I see." He glanced back at Obi-Wan standing a few feet away._ What do you think?_ he asked through their Force-bond.

_She could use some assistance_, was the Padawan's response. _We're all but finished here — I don't think it would be too difficult to delay a day or two in order to make sure she has someplace to go once we leave._

_I agree_. The Jedi Master turned back to the girl, a kind smile curving his lips. "Here, why don't you come with us? We can find you somewhere to stay and give you enough to fend on your own for a while. What's your name?"

"My name is Alya. And I'm sorry, but I don't accept charity."

"Call it a loan, then, until you can pay us back."

"Well…" Alya sighed, then stood up. Her eyes were sparkling with a defiance that Qui-Gon could only admire, considering her situation. "All right. But no charity."

"Of course."

* * *

Alya accompanied the two Jedi back to the hotel in which they were staying, where the master had a brief chat with the manager and discreetly explained the situation. Though the manager was slightly dubious, he was really a kind man at heart and sympathetic to Alya's story. 

In the end, it was decided that the girl would be provided with a small room not too far from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's larger quarters, as long as the Jedi remained responsible for her for the remainder of their stay.

Once Alya had been comfortably settled, master and apprentice returned to their own rooms. Qui-Gon was glad they had managed to help the girl, but Obi-Wan pointed out something they would have to consider eventually.

"Yes, it's nice that we've done this much," he said quietly, "but what happens when we leave? Sooner or later she's going to run out of funds, and then what? She'll be right back where we found her, and this time there won't be two Jedi to help." The Padawan was spread out on the couch, apparently reveling in the softness of that article of furniture.

"I know," Qui-Gon agreed. "We'll have to figure out something —" He was cut off by a voice from the comm system saying quickly, "Sorry for the interruption, but there is a guest in the lobby who wishes to see you."

"Who is it?"

"Guest did not provide a name, sir."

"We'll be right down."

"Yes, sir. I'll inform him that you're on your way."

Qui-Gon exchanged a glance with his apprentice. "This is odd."

"Well, why don't we go downstairs and find out who it is, Master?" Obi-Wan suggested cheerfully. He headed for the door.

The two of them took the turbolift down to the lobby level and, a minute later, stepped out into the reception area of the hotel. The room was fairly quiet, with a few guests milling around talking or sipping drinks, and unfortunately Qui-Gon spotted the visitor quickly.

He stopped walking abruptly, thinking he must be dreaming. This was impossible. _He_ couldn't be here.

But it was also impossible to mistake the straight, dark hair, the long strands falling elegantly around the face that was still young and pale. A small, almost mocking smile was curving the ends of the mouth. And as Qui-Gon looked, unbelieving, into the bright, icy-blue eyes, he saw his past catching up to him at last.

* * *

Thanks for reading; now the Force compels you to review. waves hand You _will_ review... 


	9. Words of Fear and Loss

A sooner update thanI expected, but I'm getting very much into the story right now, and Xanatos is just so much fun to write. Happy reading!

* * *

How long Qui-Gon stood there, frozen, oblivious to everything around him except that malevolent vision of the past, he never exactly knew. The few other guests of the hotel had faded into the background, even Obi-Wan becoming no more than a shadow beside him, and all that remained was this fear turned valid. Eventually, though, Qui-Gon forced himself to return to the reality of the situation, however improbable it was. This sudden development required some lightning-fast thinking on his part, for he knew that within seconds the "vision" would make its move, and he needed to be adequately prepared for what was sure to be an unpleasant encounter. He was not looking forward to it. 

"Obi-Wan, please return to our rooms," he instructed quietly, keeping his voice as steady as was humanly possible under such circumstances. "At once." Though his words were directed at the apprentice, his eyes never left the figure standing so insolently at the other side of the lobby.

Looking bewildered, Obi-Wan glanced up at his master's impassive features. There was a question imminent in his gaze, which he soon voiced. "Master? What's going on?"

At that moment, Qui-Gon almost regretted the closeness of the Force-bond between them that their relationship had slowly built up over the past few years. However hard he tried to put up a barrier, to guard the few emotions and thoughts that he did not wish his Padawan to sense, he rarely succeeded in the endeavor. Obi-Wan was just too perceptive to have missed the signs, and this case was no exception. He could see the boy's puzzlement and obvious concern, and knew that, in turn, Obi-Wan had noticed his master's sudden apprehension.

But there was no time for that now. "Just do it, Obi-Wan," the older Jedi said rather sharply. "I will explain later."

And so Obi-Wan, looking immensely worried, reluctantly recognized that this was not the time to argue and turned away. With a last glance at his mentor, he hurried back the way they had come and disappeared into the turbolift.

It was just as well the boy had not protested, for mere seconds later, the source of Qui-Gon's unease seemed to decide he had waited long enough (and caused enough expectant dread in the process) and strode across the room.

Qui-Gon noticed he seemed more elegantly garbed than when they had last known each other; his black cloak was of a very fine weave, clasped at the shoulder with some sort of silver ornament and falling in casual folds. The tunic and pants underneath were also black, the former with delicate embroidery in silver thread along the cuffs, hem, and high neckline. Dark boots, knee-high and with a just-polished sheen to them, completed the simple — but undoubtedly stylish — ensemble.

As he drew nearer, however, Qui-Gon discerned changes, especially in the face. His skin was as pale as ever, if not slightly more so. Framed, however, by the ebon-hued hair that had grown long enough to brush the shoulders, his pallor lent a kind of handsomeness to his countenance. There were a few additional lines around the eyes and mouth, perceived by a close observer, but they were barely visible and did not noticeably detract from the otherwise young visage. And the eyes… the icy blue Telosian eyes were so familiar and unchanged as to send a slight shiver of recollection through the Jedi Master.

Xanatos studied Qui-Gon curiously for a moment, with the air of someone who had not expected this visitor but would be delighted to have them stay for tea. There was something about the way his lips curved into a cold smile, though, that warned Qui-Gon this would not be the warm reunion of master and apprentice meeting again after years apart.

Finally, Xanatos spoke. "Why, Master," he exclaimed, "is this the only reaction I get after all these years? A cold look that would send a rock scrambling for cover? A simple 'hello' would be appropriate, wouldn't you say?"

A long silence followed this little speech as Qui-Gon tried to come to grips with what the other was saying. At the very least, it was out of character. At most… there could be a dozen possible motives. But the fact remained that Xanatos was being _friendly_ — almost as though he had genuinely missed his master over the years and possessed a sincere regret at their less-than-amicable parting on Telos IV. No, Qui-Gon corrected himself, he was acting as though it had never happened!

"You come here," Qui-Gon began softly, "after all these years, after what you _did_ that day, and you expect me to greet you like it never occurred?" There was a dangerous tone in his voice that indicated his feelings about the situation.

"Ah," said Xanatos thoughtfully, and the smile slipped from his face. "Ah, yes, I see. This _does_ put a damper on things, doesn't it? I perceive that you still consider me the apprentice who betrayed you and turned to the dark side, leaving everything else behind. I suppose it could be considered true by some accounts, but really, that interpretation has very little validity now. You see, Qui-Gon, I've put all that behind me." Apparently he saw Qui-Gon's thoroughly suspicious glance, for he laughed softly. "Of course, you have very little reason to believe me. I know how difficult it is for you to get over these things."

Qui-Gon's stare was all steel. "Enlighten me."

"Well, to be bluntly truthful, you put me in a very opportunistic position when you killed my father. His death left me the sole heir of everything he had gained during the years I was training as a Jedi. And, I assure you, that was nothing to be sneezed at. After all, he had almost the entire world of Telos under his authority."

"And I suppose you took advantage of that opportunity."

"Naturally." Xanatos' expression was almost too sincere. "Even someone like you, Qui-Gon, incorruptible as your Jedi morals may be, would hesitate to turn down such a chance. Consequently, I am now one of the wealthiest, and most influential, individuals in the Kwymar Sector." He flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"You cannot possibly expect that to impress me," Qui-Gon returned coldly.

"No," said Xanatos with a regretful sigh, "I suppose not. But I had hoped you would at least be happy that your old Padawan had gained some manner of success."

"Not when that success is made off of thousands of others."

Xanatos looked rather hurt at that. "No, no, you misunderstand! The people of Telos — they need me. They need someone who keeps order, who suppresses the rebellions that endanger so many lives… It all works out."

"I don't — Why am I standing here speaking civilly to you?" Qui-Gon said angrily. "Let me also be bluntly truthful: I would have been much happier had you never shown up here. You may have put everything behind you, but I have not, and quite honestly, nothing you have done or said has convinced me that I have any reason to trust you again."

There was a long pause. Then —

"You've changed," his former Padawan noted somberly.

Qui-Gon's reply was harsh. "Yes, I have. And your betrayal had no small part in it."

"Regrettable," the other murmured. "But," he added, and his tone lightened, "you have a companion. Who is the boy — your new apprentice, perhaps?"

"Yes," the master replied stiffly.

"Trying again?"

It was a cruel, subtle strike. Qui-Gon's eyes flashed furiously. "Get out," he ordered quietly. "I'm through talking with you. I don't know why I've even tolerated your presence this long. Now _leave_. I don't want to see your face again."

"Oh, Qui-Gon," Xanatos sighed. "I'm so very disappointed in you. But," he added with a strange, almost twisted smile, "you are wrong about one thing. This is not our last meeting. I have the oddest feeling we will be seeing each other again very soon." With a mocking bow, a warped reproduction of the respect he would have shown Qui-Gon had he still been a Jedi, Xanatos twirled his black cloak and sauntered away.

Qui-Gon hated to admit it, but a part of him knew Xanatos was right. The day of reckoning was not very far away.

* * *

(Waves hand again) You _do_ want to review. And for the stronger-minded... please review! Constructive criticism appreciated. 


	10. Deception

The hotel lobby seemed to have drifted away in a haze of mist, leaving a grey reflection in its place. Qui-Gon's eyes were unfocused as he stared blankly at the door where Xanatos had disappeared, every muscle in his body feeling numb, frozen, totally immobile. His left hand was locked in a tight grip on the lightsaber hilt at his belt, where it had remained during the entire conversation, as though his subconscious mind were expecting an attack at any moment. After several very long moments, as some of the color and sound seemed to seep back into the room, he thought he caught a glimpse of their temporary charge, Alya, crossing the lobby near the wall, but it was only a vague observation that did not fully register. He cared very little at the moment.

Qui-Gon felt faintly sick as he finally turned and strode slowly back the way he had come, towards the turbolift. It was as though Xanatos were some recurring disease, dormant for so many years and suddenly striking again when he, the victim, had least expected it. A shiver passed through him, though neither the hotel nor the air outside was cold.

He stepped into the lift without really thinking about it, his thoughts elsewhere. Was this really possible? Could coincidence be stretched so far as to explain how both he and Xanatos were on the same planet, even in the same city? Experience had taught him that luck and chance often had very little to do with most circumstances — cause and effect were much more influential — but the alternative solution was much less appealing. Qui-Gon could not stop the thought crossing his mind that the Force must have an extremely warped sense of humor if it deemed the time right to bring master and apprentice together again like this, with no prior warning whatsoever.

By the time he reached the door outside the apartment, he realized there was something else he would have to deal with — Obi-Wan. The boy obviously knew something was wrong; there was no hiding that from him at this stage. But Qui-Gon was not yet prepared to divulge the entire story, not when they had been together for a mere three years. He was afraid to think what the knowledge might do to the bond of trust that had been growing stronger each day up to this point.

Obi-Wan looked up sharply as Qui-Gon entered the room without a word, absently flinging his outer robe onto the back of a nearby chair. "Master?" the Padawan asked with a note of concern in his voice. "Are you feeling all right? You look rather pale."

"Go see if Alya needs anything, will you?" the older Jedi said wearily, turning his face away so that Obi-Wan would not be able to make any more comments about how shaken he appeared. "Ask her whether there is anything else we can do."

"All right, Master." Obi-Wan was still looking at him, and now a line of worry had formed between his eyebrows. But, obedient Padawan that he was, he rose without commenting again and left the room, robe swishing around his ankles as he went. The door snapped shut behind him, leaving Qui-Gon very much alone.

This suited him perfectly. However, he had barely begun to collect his confused and scattered thoughts with the intention of trying to sort them out when Obi-Wan returned, walking a little more quickly and with a frown on his young face.

"She isn't there," the apprentice reported worriedly, taking a seat on the couch again. "Alya. I think she must have gone out somewhere. Should we go look—"

Qui-Gon held up a hand. "No, it's fine. I saw her down in the lobby as I was coming up. She's grown up in this city — she will be fine."

"What about you?" his protégé returned quietly. He was looking directly into Qui-Gon's eyes as though seeing something beyond the mask of calm, and it made the Jedi master a little uncomfortable. "Something's bothering you. Who was it that you met down there?"

Sighing, Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment. He did not want to lie. He knew perfectly well that the lie would be discovered in time and it would not be thrust away lightly. But even stronger was the knowledge that he simply _could not_ tell Obi-Wan what had happened to his previous apprentice, and why it had been allowed to happen. In the end, he decided on only a small part of the truth. "It was… someone I had not seen in many years. It startled me to see him here. He has… changed very much since the time that I knew him." He turned away.

"Oh." Obi-Wan bit his lip, looking as though he were about to say something more. He seemed to recognize, though, as Qui-Gon knew he would, that those last words were a dismissal of sorts. Qui-Gon was not inviting further questions.

As the silence stretched longer and longer, the master finally walked away. "I will be in my room if you need me," he said, and without waiting for his Padawan's agreement, went to his room and closed the door behind him with a negligent wave of his hand that was almost automatic. Then, finally alone, he sank down onto the edge of his sleep couch and bowed his head, resting it in his hands.

* * *

Qui-Gon spent most of the next day in his room. He told Obi-Wan that he was meditating, resting, and as he sometimes did so at the end of a mission, his explanation went unchallenged. The silence of the room provided some small measure of comfort, as he did not want to speak with anyone at the moment, but it could not drive away the turmoil of emotions that had begun seething relentlessly inside him. He could not even identify all his feelings at present, and it hurt even more to try.

He emerged briefly around evening to inform Obi-Wan that he was not hungry, and that Obi-Wan and Alya could find somewhere to eat if they wished. There was an anxious expression on his Padawan's face, and after hearing his mentor's words, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something. But Qui-Gon pretended not to notice and quickly shut himself in his room again.

It was early the next morning when a knock came at the door, and after a polite moment, Obi-Wan popped his head in. "Alya wants to show me more of the city," he said, in a tone that suggested he was asking whether this was permissible. "She's been exploring it for years and knows some places of interest."

"Go ahead," Qui-Gon agreed, trying not to sound indifferent. "It will be good for you to get out and about for a while."

"Master," Obi-Wan continued hesitantly, "if there is anything I can get you…"

"Nothing at the moment. Have a good time."

Looking faintly disappointed, Obi-Wan retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the door to the hall open, then hiss shut again as the two adolescents left the apartment. It was not that he did not appreciate Obi-Wan's concern, but he was starting to become tired of coming up with excuses that only made the apprentice look more anxious.

He spent another restless half an hour in the apartment, thinking, though it was really closer to brooding. Then the door buzzed loudly and Qui-Gon started out of his thoughts. Obi-Wan and Alya could not possibly be back in so short a time; he had expected them to be gone for a few hours at least. Curiously puzzled, he rose from his seat by the window, made his way across the room, and opened the door.

The man standing there obviously worked at the hotel; he wore the same sort of blue and silver uniform, with highly polished boots, that seemed the standard of the building's staff. "Master Jinn?" he asked formally.

Qui-Gon nodded.

The man held out a slip of durasheet. "This was delivered for you a few minutes ago," he said, and handed it to the Jedi.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said, and the hotel worker bowed and continued down the hall. Closing the door again, Qui-Gon returned to stand by the window. By its brilliant sunny light, he unfolded the durasheet and read it quickly. A frown became more pronounced on his face as he did so.

_Qui-Gon—_

_We did not have the chance to speak thoroughly the other day, as your surprise at seeing me again obviously caused you to be, forgive me, ruder than you might otherwise have been. In that light, I would be delighted if you would join me this morning so we can catch up on all those years we missed. I would remind you that I bear no grudge against you for the events of the past._

_Should you choose to honor me with your presence, I will be in the park just down the street from you current quarters until midday._

_Hoping to see you there,_

_Xanatos_

Qui-Gon read the note through twice, then folded it again and slipped it into a pocket of his robe. Without knowing exactly why, he had decided to go and meet his old apprentice. It was better than pacing restlessly in his room all day, and, with any luck, he might get some answers as to what Xanatos was really up to.

* * *

Sorry about the long break in between chapters! Here it is, finally. May the Force be with those who read and review!


	11. How the Force Works

Clouds were starting to form in the previously unadulterated sky as Qui-Gon exited the hotel, giving only a curt nod to the greeter standing by the door. The man had approached with the air of intending to badger the Jedi as to whether there was anything, anything at all, that he could do to make the latter's stay more pleasant, and Qui-Gon, having no wish for more unimportant details, had only quickened his pace. He glanced up and down the duracrete road, shared by both speeders and pedestrians scurrying about their business. A glimpse of tree-green caught his eye far down on the right, and without pausing, he continued across the wide street, keeping one eye on speeders that slowed to let him cross in front of them.

Once on the other side, Qui-Gon allowed his thoughts to wander more freely. There was a problem here that needed to be addressed as soon as possible, and quite preferably before he met up with Xanatos. Essentially, he did not know what he would say when that moment came. It was such a small thing, really, and yet words contained more power than the general population of the galaxy gave them credit for.

Xanatos' own words the previous day still puzzled the Jedi Master. And not only his words, but his actions, his expressions as he spoke to the mentor he had betrayed and denied all those years ago. Why, _why _had his entire being radiated cordiality, pleasant surprise, even warmth?

_It makes no sense_, Qui-Gon thought, almost angrily. His old apprentice had not put the past behind him — he couldn't have. It just wasn't like him.

But then he stopped as another, far less pleasant thought occurred to him. Perhaps… perhaps Xanatos _had_ forgiven and forgotten. Perhaps it was he, Qui-Gon, who refused to let go, resisted moving on. Was he seeing deception in Xanatos because it was what he expected to see? Was he making this mistake again, blinding himself to all that he did not wish to accept, when all the while the betrayal had been resolved years ago and he hadn't even known it?

In his own heart, he knew what was so repulsive about the notion. He did not, _could_ not, acknowledge the possibility that Xanatos was capable of acceptance and forgiveness when he himself was finding it the hardest thing he had ever done.

And he was supposed to be a Jedi.

It was then that Qui-Gon realized he had traversed the distance to the park, indicated by the note in his pocket, without the slightest knowledge of doing so. Scanning the area ahead of him, he turned down the nearest path, which led across a grassy area and then into a small vicinity of trees. Every so often he caught sight of other sentients — children running and laughing, couples both with and without smaller family members, once even a pair of Iridonians who appeared to be conducting a sparring match in an open patch of grass.

Only when he was quite a ways into the center of the park did he finally see who he was looking for. Xanatos was leaning casually against the trunk of a large tree, arms folded across his chest. His long black cloak was lying on the ground, looking as though it had been cast of absently by its owner. The eyes of the man in question were watching a group of young ones not far away, who appeared to be playing some sort of game involving catching a small ball.

Qui-Gon approached slowly, not knowing what to expect after their last meeting. But Xanatos did not speak for a very long while. When he finally did, there was a curious note of regret in his voice. Qui-Gon wondered whether he realized it was there.

"We used to play a similar game in the Temple," the former Jedi remarked quietly, his gaze still following the progress of the children's throws and catches. "When I was a youngling. There was always a Master with us, teaching us of something or another. Sometimes, if we had done our exercises, they would bring out a simple orb and put it in the middle of the floor. We were supposed to use the Force to raise it into the air, and then we had to take our lightsaber and hit it with the blade."

Qui-Gon glanced at him. "I remember that. I came to watch you."

"It seemed so simple a task — hardly even a challenge." Now Xanatos' expression was slightly mocking. "Yet it was far more difficult than we thought, for being young and inexperienced, we found it quite a test to hold the orb in place with the Force and still move towards it and strike it. The Master gave us the name of a creature based on how we went about the task. Some went very slowly, patiently, so as to keep a balance between movement and concentration. Others barely took a step and the orb fell.

"And I? I attacked it. I put all my effort into not only hitting it, but shattering it. And do you remember, Qui-Gon, what name the Master gave to me?"

Of course he remembered. It had been one of the first signs… one he had missed. "The vornskr."

"Yes. Strange, isn't it, how you trained me in Ataru, and yet from the beginning I was linked to the most contradictory of the forms, the most dangerous? Juyo, 'way of the Vornskr', not 'way of the Hawk-Bat', as is your form."

Qui-Gon did not comment on this. He had gone through the same thinking far too many times in the years between now and Telos. Trying to convince himself that Xanatos had hardly begun his training at the time, and so still could not be expected to keep his aggression in check under a particular form, had merely made matters worse all around.

"But enough reminiscing," the once Jedi said suddenly, as though they were straying off topic. "The past in finished and done with. Now, Qui-Gon, we must embrace the future, and the many opportunities it holds if only we can reach out and take them."

The master regarded him carefully. "Why did you want me to come here?" he asked bluntly.

Xanatos smiled thinly. "Always so straightforward, my old master. You still harbor suspicions of me, don't you?" He sighed theatrically. "Ah, well. I suppose you do have your reasons — I wasn't exactly respectful that day." He picked up his cloak, fastened it on, and began walking down the path back towards the main road. Qui-Gon followed, soon drawing up beside him and glancing at that face.

"What I wanted," Xanatos continued as they walked, "was reconciliation between you and me. We, Qui-Gon, are men far too involved in the nuances of this Republic to let an old grudge get in the way. Just think about it. There is so much we could _do_ for the galaxy. As a Jedi, of course, you are given daily opportunities to lessen the suffering of those in more unfortunate conditions. But you do lack steady resources to aid you in your efforts, and that's where I come in. My corporation is thriving. With the right contacts, our possibilities are nearly limitless." The note of fervor in his voice was so genuine that Qui-Gon could hardly believe he was hearing it.

"Why this grand scheme to save the galaxy single-handedly?" he asked curiously, and also with some suspicion. "Others have tried it, you realize, and even getting started is not easy."

Xanatos shrugged, turning down a fork in the path and then looking at the master. "Because I've been given quite a lot in this more recent life of mine," he explained simply. "Don't you think others should have that chance?"

"I wish they did." Qui-Gon's voice was soft. "But that's not the way the Force works. How would anything be done if everyone had enough to have it done for them? Life, especially sentient life, is designed to work within certain systems. If you start rearranging things based on your own idea of morality, those systems are going to be disrupted, and you'll come to realize that things are going badly wrong. You'll lose control of your own alterations, but it will be too late to go back to the old ways."

"You're a pessimist, Qui-Gon," Xanatos accused him with a note of disappointment.

"No," Qui-Gon disagreed calmly, "I'm a realist."

Xanatos did not comment again, and they walked in relative silence until they reached the grassy edge of the park. The younger man looked around briefly, and then his eyes fixed on a small café just across the street that had already become busier in the time they had spent conversing. He nodded in that direction. "Shall we?"

Qui-Gon shrugged, and Xanatos apparently took that as a sign of agreement, for he turned and traversed the street without looking either right or left. A blue light flashed over the door as they entered the building, and a few people who seemed to have nothing better to do than see who came in looked around. Xanatos led the way to a table in the front corner of the room, near the window, gesturing for his former master to take a seat. Almost immediately, a floating, feminine-appearing droid whirred over to them.

"What can I get you?" it asked brightly, staring at each of them in turn, apparently designed with the intention of having a customer-friendly disposition, but instead succeeding only in irritating Qui-Gon's already strained nerves.

"Just tea," the Jedi Master said absently, with the barest of glances at the droid. "Kopi."

It made a small beep and turned to Xanatos. "And you?"

Xanatos, too, was not looking at the droid. He was staring at Qui-Gon, smiling slightly as though finding something amusing about the situation. "Likewise," he said, with a knowing glance at his old master. As the serving droid whirled and moved away, he leaned forward and lowered his voice slightly. "Now, Qui-Gon, here's what I was thinking…."

* * *

I know this update has been a long time in coming. I've been very busy lately. But here it is, and remember: comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.


	12. Many Secrets

Qui-Gon's return to the apartment was marked by a distinct change in mindset, he noticed. His initial confusion had been replaced by another, hardly more satisfying emotion — uncertainty. Thus it was that he was wandering around his own thoughts rather than paying much attention to what was going on around him (a thing he constantly told Obi-Wan never to do) when he entered the hotel quarters, and was startled a bit by his apprentice's voice.

"Where have you been?"

Was that really Obi-Wan? The voice was sharp, even hard, sounding much more like it should be coming from master to Padawan than the other way around.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, sighing and looking over to where the boy was standing near the door to his room. "I should have let you know."

"You could have at least left a message with the hotel staff," the apprentice pointed out. He sounded rather strained. "I've been worried. First you act like the world's collapsing and won't tell me why, and just when I expect you'll just stay in your room because of it, you go wandering off without a word."

"Obi-Wan, I know I should have —"

"So, why don't you explain to me what in all the _Force_ is going on here?" Obi-Wan interrupted coolly, his arms folded over his chest and his whole stance radiating determination. "Who was that man you were talking to? Was he the one you went out to meet while I was conveniently gone?"

Qui-Gon glanced at him, annoyed now. "He is no one that need concern you, Padawan. Just someone I haven't seen in a long time. I didn't expect him to be here."

"You're not _helping_," Obi-Wan said hotly through clenched teeth. "Explain to me, then, why he made you react like you did. Master, I _know_ you. Under normal circumstances, you're unshakeable. It took me ages to break through your shell, and yet this man can do it without even talking to you! _Tell me what's going on!_"

Almost hating himself for doing it, Qui-Gon turned away. "It's not important." He deliberately hardened his voice. "This discussion is over."

There was a long silence, during which the master was sure his Padawan was coping with the sudden harshness of the rebuke and deliberating whether to continue the argument anyway. "Tell the Council," the apprentice urged quickly. "If you won't tell me, at least report to them. I think this is something they should know about." He paused, and Qui-Gon could sense insistence with which he continued after a few moments, his voice slightly softer. "We've completed our assignment, Master. Let the Council know."

"No," the older Jedi refused sharply. "This does not concern them, either. This is between me and Xa — between myself and him. And you would do well, Obi-Wan, if you kept that in mind."

Angry tears were welling up in Obi-Wan's eyes. Qui-Gon could see them clearly, though there was nearly half a room's length between master and apprentice. "Stop," Obi-Wan implored very quietly, his voice shaking. "Please stop, Master. What have we been working towards these past years? Trust. And you're killing it. You're shooting all that down right now, because you won't tell me what's upsetting you and causing you to act like this. But all right. Fine. I'm not going to pester you. But you should think about what you're saying, because I don't see you doing that right now." And without another word, he turned on his heel and went back into his room, snapping the door shut behind him.

* * *

Once in the privacy of his own room, Obi-Wan quickly wiped away the dampness around his eyes. If Qui-Gon insisted on being stubborn and secretive, the apprentice would have to make the move that the master seemed incapable of doing at this time. Collecting his thoughts and emotions, Obi-Wan cast about for his robe, slipped it on, and walked quickly back to the door. He stood there for nearly ten minutes, completely silent as he listened for the sound of his mentor retreating to the opposite room. When he was sure the coast was clear, he carefully slid back into the now-empty common room.

There was no sound from Qui-Gon's quarters, but that did not concern Obi-Wan very much. Qui-Gon was a reticent man in the first place, and when he was worried, angry, or just deep in thought, it was perfectly normal for him to become positively close-mouthed. It was likely that he would remain there in his own company for quite awhile, giving Obi-Wan ample time to complete the transmission he knew had to be made before things got too far out hand for him to have any control over them.

Public transportation by air taxi gave the Padawan an easy route to the starport where the Jedi had left their ship during the mission. Once secure inside the craft's cockpit, though, Obi-Wan had to push himself to transmit a signal to Coruscant. His insistence, so fired up after the argument with his master, had slowly dwindled to the point where he was not entirely sure that what he was about to do would not pose negative repercussions in the future. He knew that his main obstacle was the fact that Qui-Gon had clearly forbidden him to contact the Jedi Council; the order had not perhaps been said out loud, but Qui-Gon's expression when Obi-Wan had suggested it had been more than enough. The apprentice felt a vague, uneasy sense that he was somehow betraying his mentor's trust by going through with it.

_But I've got to_, he thought firmly. _For Qui-Gon's sake._ And thus convinced, at least partially, he sent out the signal, hoping in his heart that disobedience would soon be shown as the right course of action.

It was only a few seconds before a response came through. The flickering azure hologram that appeared just above the console showed, luckily, a Council Member — Adi Gallia.

"_Obi-Wan?_" she asked in surprise, frowning at him. "_What's going on over there? We expected you back at the Temple three days ago. And where is Qui-Gon?_"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "He's back at the hotel. We — well, _he_ — picked up another of his little friends, and we stayed to make sure that she was going to be all right. But—"

"_Is something wrong, Padawan?_"

"I'm not sure… I mean, yes, but I don't really know what it is." Obi-Wan fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe, uncertain as to how to phrase the current problem. "Something's going on here — with Master Qui-Gon, I mean. He's been acting strangely, and won't tell me what's upsetting him."

"_You mean you can't identify any sort of cause? Nothing at all?_"

"Well… I-I'm not positive about this, but… I think it might have something to do with the man who came to the hotel yesterday. Someone he knew from a long time ago…."

There was a long pause. Adi Gallia seemed to be thinking quickly. After a few more seconds, she said decisively, "_I think I should go find Master Yoda. He's known Qui-Gon far longer than I have. He might be able to shed some light on this. Wait a few moments._"

Obi-Wan leaned back against the co-pilot's chair, trying to deal with a mixed feeling of apprehension and relief. He had contacted the Council, but now he had to try to explain what was happening, with little information to back him up. It was only a few minutes before Adi returned, accompanied not only by Yoda but also Mace Windu. Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He had definitely not expected the latter to come as well.

Ironically, it was Master Windu who spoke first. "_Master Gallia tells me you think something is wrong with Qui-Gon. And a certain character is supposedly the cause of this?_" His tone was questioning, asking for confirmation.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied nervously. "He came into the hotel the other day, and that's when Qui-Gon started behaving…, well, rather strangely. But I still don't know what's going on."

"_Describe this man, you can, young Padawan_?" Yoda asked him, his hologram-blue gaze intent.

"I didn't see him very closely," Obi-Wan admitted. "Qui-Gon sent me back up before he got very close. But… he was fairly tall, dark hair a bit on the long side, and very pale." He looked anxiously at the Council members. "Does that help at all?"

Adi Gallia looked as confused as before, but Mace and Yoda exchanged a very knowing glance. "_Could it really be him_?" Master Windu asked in a slightly incredulous voice. "_After all this time_?"

"_Possible, it is_," the little master answered slowly. "_And yet, perhaps not_."

"_We underestimated him once_," reminded Mace, his tone serious, even grave. "_I wouldn't be surprised, actually. And he would have an… interesting effect on Qui-Gon_." Then he looked at Obi-Wan, who was surprised to detect a fair amount of concern in his dark eyes. "_Tell Qui-Gon that the Council is giving you both a direct order to return to Coruscant immediately._"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, Master," he agreed quietly. "But I don't think he'll like it."

_"He doesn't have to like it, young Padawan. He just has to follow instructions until we figure out what's really going on. May the Force be with you._"

The cutoff of the transmission was abrupt, taking Obi-Wan by surprise. He turned away from the console with distinct misgivings. Somehow, he had the feeling that Qui-Gon would be extremely reluctant to obey the dictations of the Jedi Council.

* * *

My apologies for the complete lack of updates in the recent month(s). But here we go again! If you like, please leave a comment. If you don't, please leave any constructive criticism you have to offer. The Force may be with you if you do...


	13. Analysis

**Author's Note: **Ok, well - it's been a long time, hasn't it? Yes. I do realize this. I just discovered that I had already started another chapter of this, and I told myself "You need to finish this story. NOW." So, hopefully it'll be up and running from now on. Updates may not be frequent, but they will happen.

To those who have followed this story so faithfully: THANK YOU. You have no idea how much I appreciate it, and I am sincerely sorry for the lack of activity. Please continue to leave your comments - they completely make my day. The more specific, the better.

* * *

"Where have you been, Padawan?"

"Out."

"Try again."

"I just told you."

"Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon's tone was warning this time. He was in no mood to have to pry every bit of information from his apprentice.

Shrugging, Obi-Wan regarded the floor with an unusually intense interest. "I suppose because I'm the apprentice I have to tell you everything, don't I? Funny — I was under the impression that it was a reciprocal obligation."

The implication was not lost on Qui-Gon, and he was on the verge of a retort when he suddenly thought better of it. No use provoking another argument. The last one had been hurtful enough to both sides, though only one of them was willing to admit it. Biting back a sharp reply, the Jedi Master instead breathed a long, slow sigh that reverberated tightly in the silence, and then dissolved as Qui-Gon spoke again.

"I would appreciate it if you'd just tell me," was all he said, as gently as he could manage at the moment. "I'm sorry; there are some things —"

But Obi-Wan cut him off. "I can live without the explanations for now, Master." Then he looked Qui-Gon fully in the face. "My petty retaliation isn't going to help things. If you want to know, I was just checking on the ship. I had thought…. that we were going to be leaving soon."

"I see." If that was all, there was little to worry about. Qui-Gon had been rather anxious, upon discovering his Padawan's absence, that the boy might have walked away without any idea of where he was going; anything — it pained him to think of the possibility — to get away from the master who, in Obi-Wan's eyes, must have been showing an uncalled-for distrust. With that relief softening the weight that seemed to have settled inside him ever since Xanatos' reappearance, Qui-Gon was about to walk away when Obi-Wan's voice reached him again.

"Er… Master, there's something else." There was a strange hesitancy in the apprentice's words that made Qui-Gon turn around again. "When I checked the ship, there was a message from the Council. They — they want us to return to Coruscant."

Suspicious, Qui-Gon frowned at him. "Coruscant?" he repeated questioningly.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Immediately."

Had the Council found out that the two Jedi had completed their assignment, and were now wondering why they had not yet returned to the Temple? Letting out his breath sharply, Qui-Gon shook his head. "Absolutely out of the question," he replied, pacing agitatedly over to the window and looking out across the city.

"I got the impression that it was a direct order, Master."

"We are not leaving yet."

"But—"

"The Council has learned many times that I act according to my own perceptions, not theirs. And it is my decision that we stay here for a while longer. I still have a few things I need to do." He wanted to leave it at that, but somehow felt it was inadequate. "And besides, Alya may still need our help."

"She didn't _want_ our help in the first place," Obi-Wan pointed out. "I don't even think she really needed it; you just happen to be very persuasive when it comes to these things."

"Perhaps. The fact remains, however, that the Council will have to wait. Understood?"

Obi-Wan nodded unhappily. "Yes, Master."

With a feeling of distinct uneasiness edging up on him, Qui-Gon sighed and continued to watch the skyline for nothing in particular. Obi-Wan may have accepted his decision, but only time would tell if the Council was just as lenient.

* * *

"So that's him, is it?" Xanatos eyed the boy speculatively. He could, to some degree, understand what Qui-Gon saw in him; he was determined, quick with a lightsaber, and very strong in the Force. But he also lacked two traits which Xanatos, had he made a few different choices, would have found most desirable in a Padawan. The first was a clear and true ambition. The second attribute was more subtle, and less easy to learn. It had to be natural. This trait was just a different way of looking at things, marginally but eternally distrustful, so that one was never caught without a back door. Better to be suspicious than foolish.

Qui-Gon nodded. "He has much potential, even if he is a bit headstrong at times. He'll go far once he learns to productively channel his emotions."

The two — former master and apprentice — were again standing in the city park, this time watching Obi-Wan and Alya some ways away. At the latter's request, Obi-Wan was demonstrating some fairly basic lightsaber exercises, mostly defensive (as was his habit), which nevertheless, Xanatos mused, must look quite sophisticated to one such as Alya.

"He is about as different from me as you could get, Qui-Gon," he remarked after a moment, with a sidelong glance at the other. "Was that a deliberate choice, perhaps?"

"If it was deliberate," the master answered slowly, "it was not consciously so. Are you surprised?"

Xanatos followed Obi-Wan's movements again, his mind appraising. "Not really."

They fell into silence, giving Xanatos some time to ponder the situation. Judging from the first encounter at the hotel, it was clear to him that Obi-Wan was completely ignorant of who he was or the nature of his relationship with Qui-Gon—which made matters easier for him, in a way. Qui-Gon's fear of the past would be his undoing; it would naturally leave his Padawan searching for answers a little further afield. And because Qui-Gon had told him nothing, the boy would be forced to accept anything else he was told at face value, or suffer the pain of ignorance for even longer.

Though he was careful not to let it show, Xanatos smiled inwardly. If he knew anything about Padawan psychology at all, Obi-Wan would much rather know something—_anything._

That was when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his old master staring at him with a very strange expression—something halfway between bewilderment and suspicion. Xanatos raised an eyebrow at him as he tried to fathom the cause behind the sudden change. "Something wrong, Qui-Gon?" he asked quietly.

Their eyes met for a moment, and then Qui-Gon shook his head as though brushing off some small distraction. "No… no. Just a thought I had." And he said no more.

As though in agreement, Xanatos nodded and resumed his watching of the young ones, but mentally his attention was not on the little lightsaber lesson at all. He was confident that he could read his former teacher like a clear durasheet, even after all these years, and though he was certain that his own expression had given nothing away, Qui-Gon had still shown that flash of worry, of abrupt distrust. But why? What had changed in those few, unimportant moments that merited such a reaction?

With a murmured word to Qui-Gon, Xanatos politely excused himself and began walking back towards the edge of the park. This was worrying, if only slightly. If he was to go ahead with his plans, he needed to be sure that he knew—or could at least guess with a good degree of confidence—what was going on inside his old master's head. That one look threw a hefty dash of the unknown into the mix, and it was the last thing he needed.

His eyes narrowed in thought, Xanatos quickened his pace. He had other matters to deal with before he could allow himself the leisure of analyzing Qui-Gon's thought process.

Though, admittedly, it couldn't wait too long.

* * *

Thank you for reading! The Force is calling you from that 'Review' button. I know you can hear it.


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